


Oh Baby, Chaos & Cooper

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Natasha's Life [5]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Brainwashing, Cooper is a newborn, F/M, Graphic descriptions of violence, Murder, Natalia as a spy, Natasha is terrified of children, Red Room KGB Work, assassinations, blood mentions, executions, explicit descriptions of child death, past Red Room mention, severe dissociation issues, this is twisted friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: This work takes place perhaps a week or so after Cooper's surprise debut in the Barton's kitchen.  Natasha continues to struggle with living in close proximity to the the fragile new baby along with the other children.  This story explores how Natasha, Laura and Clint manage to knit themselves together as a new family.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov / Yelena Belova
Series: Natasha's Life [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758643
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Oh Baby, Chaos & Cooper

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Please be aware that there is a section that has to do with a flashback of Natasha executing a target and his child.
> 
> Starts with "warm blood"
> 
> Ends with "as they served the KGB"

***

“Shhh. You’re okay love.” Laura cried as Cooper wailed in her arms. At least they coordinated their breakdowns, that was something. 

The padded rocker was sticky with spit up and sweat. The infant rubbed angrily at his face, his tiny nails leaving scratches. 

Great. Another way she’d failed her family. Laura changes positions, her bare feet leaving treads in the carpet. “Honey please, we’re gonna wake everyone up.” She pressed her cheek to his downy head. “For the sixth night in a row.” 

She blinked hard, snapping herself out of a light doze. Her arms tightened around Cooper, who had somehow found energy to continue bleating like a lamb. His face took on the shade of a ripe cherry tomato, at this rate, Cooper must be dehydrated. 

Another scream pulled Laura out of her head long enough to realize the cry did not come from the wriggling child in her arms. “Oh damn.” She swore, moving automatically towards the hall. Freezing she weighed the consequences of her actions. 

Cooper would only trigger Nat, especially if she was still half-stuck in a nightmare. Clint was completely deaf without his hearing aids, especially when he was this exhausted. The poor man had not been able to rest, considering how he’d barely skidded into the kitchen in time for Laura to deliver their son on the kitchen floor. She hoped that Jemma felt safe enough to wake Skye if she needed help comforting Lila or Fitz. 

Fitz. She shook her head, her older son had resisted bed time and thrown a massive tantrum during his bath. Clint had ended up in the tub, fully clothed. Which reminded her, they needed shampoo seeing as Fitz had squeezed the entire bottle into the toilet. 

Biting her lip, Laura shuffled back to their bedroom. The bed called to her, the mattress so soft and inviting. As soon as her butt touched the blankets, Cooper’s wailed soared to a volume that even Clint was able to hear. 

“Hmm? Aw, no.” Her husband’s voice muffled by bedding. 

“Baby.” Laura poked his shoulder firmly. “Who do you want? Coop or Nat?” 

“Coffee.” Clint smiled, arms wrapped around the pillow affectionately. 

Frustrated Laura yanked her husband’s underwear, exposing his butt to the chilly air. “Come on honey, I need help.” 

Clint exhaled a groan. “What?” He signed, eyes still closed. 

Laura pressed his hearing aids into his hand while bouncing a hiccupping infant. He rubbed his face against her chest, rooting around for a midnight snack. 

Clint yawned, pushing himself to his feet. Natasha screamed, thudding noises snapping Clint to a level of alertness previously only attained by his third cup of coffee. 

“Shit.” He looked at Laura, suddenly awake. “Give me Coop. Ready for a bottle?” 

“Definitely. Probably a diaper too.” Laura kissed her husband and son, retied her robe and rushed from the room. 

“Ooh.” Clint grimaced as his forearm squished against the full, damp diaper. “That’s a ripe one.” 

***

Flicking the switch, light flooded Natasha’s unofficial bedroom. The ex-assassin writhed on the floor. Her legs tangled in sheets, arms pinned to her side. Natasha’s head and neck were obscured under the bed. She was sobbing, every time she drew breath, screams low and desperate as she exhaled. 

Laura tugged her hair into a loose bun, aware of Natasha’s defensive instincts. “Nat, you’re okay sweetheart. You are safe.” 

Another cry answered her. Impulsively Laura yanked the sheet that bound her legs together. “It’s okay Nat. We’re getting you out.” 

One of her arms managed to rip through the fabric, she clawed at the floor. Natasha’s voice took on a pleading tone. The words were Russian or Ukrainian, she couldn’t understand the meaning, but the sound of her words broke Laura’s heart. 

Laura brushed the tips of her fingers over Natasha’s fist, clutching at the hardwood floor. “Nat, it’s me Laura. Please, you’re safe. You are okay.” 

Shallow breaths reminded Laura of Cooper, and her failure to keep him content. Why wouldn’t he sleep? 

A kick to her shin brought her back to the red-headed woman thrashing on the floor. “Listen Nat, let’s get you out of there? The bed is perfectly comfortable. What do you think, huh?” 

Natasha spoke so fast that she slurred her words. Her brain switched languages, suddenly Laura was able to understand. 

“Target is dead. Further instructions requested.” Laura loosened the bedding, freeing Natasha’s limbs. Upon release Natasha paced the room, her arms holding torso, nails digging into sides. “There is a complication. Further orders requested.” 

Laura gripped the doorknob, poised to run. “Natalia.” Choosing the Russian version of her name, Laura hoped it would gain her trust. Her next move was tricky, they have learned to never give Natasha orders. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“There is a child.” Natasha’s voice changed, emotion seeping in between her words. “How do I proceed?” She cleared her throat. 

A ball of ice formed in Laura’s stomach. Her actions, Natasha’s unease around Cooper suddenly made sense. “What do you want to do?” 

“I do not want. Weapons do not choose. Weapons do not want.” Her affect fell flat and monotone, Nat’s face void of emotion. 

A spasm jolted through Natasha’s body before as she succumbed to a full body shudder. “The complication is eliminated.” 

Laura swallowed thickly. She had known Natasha’s murky history was drenched in blood. Over the years, bits and pieces of her life in the Red Room had come to light. She did not have a linear understanding of her training and missions, but Laura knew she had been an assassin and spy. A spy like Clint, but to kill a child. Laura could barely accept the dangerous conditions in which her husband and best friend thrived. 

“Orders?” Natasha called. 

She knelt on the floor, her hands under her knees, tremors rolling off her limbs in waves. 

“None.” Laura answered softly, crossing her legs in front on her friend. “Nat, it’s Laura. You’re on the farm. You’re safe.” 

Keeping her eyes on the ground, Nat addressed her folded legs. “Test.” 

“What test?” 

“Test.” She gestured wildly in Laura’s direction. “Trick. You are a test. I have no people. I am weapon.” 

Articles began to drop from her speech, her accent taking on a more Easter European inflection. Recognizing the signs of an impending storm, Laura creaked open the door. Whisper-shouting she leaned into the hallway. “Clint, we need ice in here and oolong.” 

***  
Warm blood clung to her hands. The words of past lectures ran through her head. Hunting animals and people were not different, she was a weapon. Trained, loaded and primed for mission after mission. The Red Room directed her at a target and another name was added to her ledger, in dark pulsing red. 

Natalia followed orders, she did not have the choice to disobey. Her target had suffered. She did not ask questions, she did as she was told. Her handler had demanded evidence, which explained the warm organ wrapped in plastic cupped in her hands. 

Dragging the corpse towards the farthest edge of the tarp, Natalia caught sight of a small pair of eyes. 

Threat. She dropped the body, holding her gun in front of herself, scanning for a target. 

“Who’s there?” Natalia asks, her voice deathly quiet. 

A small foot clad in a lilac colored sock steps out of the shadows. 

Natalia hears static crackle through her ear piece. The child, a baby real steps unsteadily into the dim light. 

Too young to recognize the gutted man on the tarp, the toddler cocks their head at Natalia. Curious. Unafraid. 

Natalia retreated, her gun still aimed at the threat. Could they truly expect her to do this? 

“Orders.” As she spoke, the child tripped on the uneven terrain of the unfinished basement. Two hands flung out in front of their chubby body, trying to catch themselves. “There is a complication.” 

“Eliminate and return to base. Now.” The device clicked leaving Natasha alone. 

Understanding slammed into her mind so hard, Natalia lost her breath. They knew. They knew about the baby. Anticipated the child, loaded a red-haired teenage recent Red-Room graduate and pointed the weapon towards this man and his child. 

Child. The toddler pushed themselves off the ground, their tongue sticking out of their bow-shaped mouth in effort. Blue eyes. Blonde hair in small wispy curls, sticking up all over her head. 

Madame yelled for Natalia to punish her for her sloppiness. The toddler in front of her morphed into Yelena as a child. Tear streaked face, messy braid being yanked loose. Natalia remembered being forced to sit among her sestras, their faces carved of marble.  
Idiot girl. The gun clicked against her head. Natalia’s breath slowed, like before an execution. Her finger on the trigger, she felt resigned. She was the weapon. The graduate. The model for the Red Room. Want boiled in her gut. Wrong. Weapons do not feel, they cannot want. 

“Papa?” The child wobbled on the tarp, sticky with blood. Their socks, the beautiful pale purple soaking up Natalia’s latest entry in her ledger. 

After a sharp inhale, Natalia lowered the gun. Her hand trembled, the gun hot and uncomfortable. Wrong. She was a weapon. Wasn’t she?

The toddler clutched at Natalia’s cat suit, little fingers scrambling for a hold. “Pa?” 

Her father. The Red Room wanted him dead. The weapon had fulfilled their duty. The complication must be eliminated. 

“Little one.” Natalia bent at her knees, her arms outstretched for the child. “Come here.” 

The toddler wriggled in her arms, the bloody socks brushing against her arms as they tightened around the girl. 

“Pa.” She said through a mouthful of her own dirty fingers. “Pa?” 

“Da.” Natalia settled the child in her lap, humming an old melody to the child. The toddler trusted her completely, bouncing to soothe herself. 

Natalia retreated to the dark cell of her mind, the weapon taking control of her body. The weapon granted the child a quick death. 

The weapon buried the child with the original target. 

The weapon walked Natalia back to the Red Room. 

The weapon scrubbed the blood from the body. 

The weapon kept Natalia in the dark cell for months, maybe years, as they served the KGB. 

***

Holding the baby monitor to her ear, Laura nodded to her husband. “How?” 

He grinned sheepishly. “Fresh diaper, that lotion and a full tummy. Works like a charm.” 

“I’m convinced you made a deal with the devil.” 

“Oh, I absolutely have.” Clint agreed. “Just not to get Coop to sleep.” 

He lay on his side, head propped with one arm. Stifling a yawn Laura stroked Natasha’s hair. She lay sandwiched between the couple. 

A diverse collection of cold packs littered the bed, tucked against her body. Natasha hugged an old stuffed rabbit to her chest. A memory of Natasha in the early days of her freedom pushed its way to the front of her mind. “This dude has seen some shit.” Laura tugged at the plush animal’s leg. 

Clint laughed. “Well, he’s been washed more than our car.” 

“That’s not saying a lot.” Laura retorted. Natasha stirred, pushing her head further into her hands. “Like a cat.” She mused. 

“Just as feisty.” Clint added. “What triggered the flashback?” 

“Cooper.” Her face contorted in a mix of concern and guilt. 

Clint grit his teeth. “You know.” 

“I’ve always known.” She hugged Natasha to her chest. “She’s learned how to be around the kids, but I see moments where she doesn’t know how to act. Clint, I see how she is scared she is of herself.” 

“You know what I’ve done Laur. A spy’s career is not above board.” He sighed. “She’s no different.” 

Laura pressed her cheek to Nat’s hair, the scent of her smoky organic shampoo comforting her. “But, there was a child. A baby.” Her hormones plugged her throat, tears gathering in her eyes. “I don’t know how to hear that.” 

“I know.” He squeezed his wife’s hands that were wrapped around Natasha’s torso. “She took a chance, made a choice when I brought her in. Laur, you remember when we came home. She had convinced herself that she was a weapon. Now, Skye paints her nails.” 

Laura smiled at the turquoise coating Nat’s toes. “She’s teaching Lila ballet.” 

“I never thought she would dance again, now she’s making our daughter happy.” Clint brushed his wife’s hair off her face. “Those slippers are fucking adorable.” 

Laura giggled, Natasha mumbling nonsense as the older woman’s laughter jostled her. The stuffed rabbit rubbed against her nose, making her look quite innocent. “She makes me happy too. She’s family.” 

***

“Again!” Lila clapped, her feet were clad in miniature ballet slippers. 

Natasha executed a series of pirouettes to the cheers and applause of a beautiful little girl. Her niece’s praise felt unearned, but all the same Natasha’s heart soared. 

“Teach me, teach me Auntie Nat.” She locked her arms around Natasha’s waist, her chin pushing into the soft portion of her abdomen. 

“Yes.” Natasha smiled at her niece. “Follow me, little monkey.” 

Lila struggled to push her feet into third position. 

“Good!” Natasha praised, watching the little girl’s face light up at her commentary. “Now, try to straighten your spine. Long and tall.” Natasha dramatized the action, winking at Lila. 

The girl’s brow furrowed in effort. Her tongue peeked out, a byproduct of Lila’s concentration. 

Natasha’s nails dug into her palms. “Let’s take a break? How about some juice?” 

Lila flitted from the garage converted dance studio. Her innocence clenched Natasha’s organs. Her mind supplied the haunting image of another child. One whose life had ended under her own hands. The amount of red in her ledger would plague her forever. 

“Lila is safe.” She inhaled. “You are not a weapon.” Natasha exhaled, forcing her fingers to flex and release their clasped fists. 

This mantra continued until Natasha heard footsteps approaching. Little shoes rammed into hers, a pouch of juice thrust at her face. “Here Auntie Nat. Strawberry lemonade! It’s pink.” 

“Thank you matryoshka.” Her niece charged into her arms, laughing as Natasha peppered her with kisses. 

***

“Mum?” Jemma called from the mud room. 

Laura turned towards her daughter as Fitz tugged on her yoga pants. “Oops bud. Not so hard or Mommy’s gonna be nude in the kitchen again.” 

The kettle began to whistle, her head whipping towards the sound. The jostling waking the infant wrapped tightly to her chest. Cooper smacked his head against Laura’s neck, searching for her boob or a bottle. “Hold on lovebug. I know you’re hungry.”  
“Ooh! Can we make cookies Mama?” Lila skipped into the kitchen, dragging half a roll of toilet paper behind her. 

“What?” Laura started asking her daughter. Flicking off the burner, she wrapped a pot holder around the handle ready to pour tea. If she could locate the mugs. 

Jemma shrieked from the mud room. “Mum. I think I need help.” 

“Mom!!” Lila yelled excitedly. “BUBBLES.” 

Laura turned on her heel just in time to see Fitz on his back, moving his arms and legs in a mixture of water and laundry detergent. 

“Oh my.” Cooper gurgled and Laura automatically began to pat his back. Warm spit-up landed on her already stained pajama top. 

Natasha held the end of the roll. “Okay, little monkey. Start spinning.” 

Laura brightened considerably at Nat’s appearance. “How’s Clint?”

“Trying to sleep on his head.” Lila finally free from the confines of her self-made mummy costume, bounded towards the substances overflowing from the mud room. 

“What?” Laura held Cooper tightly, trying to undo the fancy baby-carrier wrap with one hand. 

“He took the meds, they should knock him out and we’ll have new migraine-free Clint in a couple hours.” Natasha extracted a bottle of actual bubbles from the pantry. “Go entertain the chickens okay? Take Fitz.” 

Squealing happily, Lila practically dragged her brother along the linoleum towards the porch. 

Jemma emerged, partially obscured by the door frame to the mudroom. “I’m so sorry Mum. I don’t know what happened. I’m so very sorry.” Her voice wobbled, teetering on the edge of tears. 

“Here.” Natasha opened her arms. “I’ll take him, you take Jemma and get changed.” 

“Are you sure?” Something like apprehension flashed across Laura’s face. 

Natasha appeared to steel herself. She cracked her neck, popping several vertebrae. “Yes. Hi little one.” She tried to smile, but sort of grimaced. 

The baby wriggled in her arms and Natasha momentarily forgot to breath. Clearing her throat, Natasha locked her gaze on Laura. “I’ve got this.”  
Jemma ducked under her mother’s arm, her head tucked against Laura’s torso. 

“Come cookie.” Laura poked her daughter’s nose, using an old nickname from when Jemma and her brother had first arrived at the farm. “Tell me all about it.” 

Tossing towels on puddles leeching their way into the kitchen, Natasha crossed into the mud room. “Now, where’s the switch for the…” She trailed off, locating the water heater between the washing machine and dryer. “Aha.” 

Cooper’s head listed to the side, hiccupping forcefully. 

“Oh!” Natasha let out a laugh of surprise. 

Her newest nephew’s eyes widened, totally transfixed by Natasha. 

His eyes, a striking mix of grey and green captivated her. He was defenseless, completely dependent on her. He felt so light and fragile in her arms. What if he fell out of her arms?  
Or if her tainted hands accidently choked him. 

He gurgled, waving impossibly small hands in her face. A couple fingers caught Natasha’s chin and her heart fluttered. 

Cooper did not know about her ledger, the dozens of names carved into her soul, or the nightmares that consumed her nights. Cooper felt safe in her arms. He babbled, staring at her with an open mouth, strings of drool dripping onto her neck. 

“Gross.” Natasha surrendered herself to her sticky nephew, more convinced then not that she could indeed keep Cooper alive until Laura returned. “This is progress, little one.” 

***

Barton blew loud, wet raspberries against Fitz’s neck. The boy squealed with joy, pulling at Clint’s shirt eagerly. Fitz signed more and looked at his father. 

“Yes! That’s my smart man.” Clint whooped, descending to deliver more tickles. “Laur, Nat, did you see that?” 

“Hm.” Laura murmured. She seized the baby monitor in her lap, cradling the device like an infant. She caught her son signing repeatedly, tugging on her husband. He shrieked and flapped with delight. “Oh. Fitz! Good job buddy. He’s been learning from Skye and Jems.” Laura slid off the couch, crawling towards her guys. 

Natasha lowered her glass of wine, observing the trio. The Barton’s trusted her with these moments. They loved her. A weapon could not accept love. On her worst days, Natasha could not tolerate the feel of her own skin. Those days were lost to such intense self-loathing that her body outright rejected any attempts at nourishment. 

A blur of a boy sped past the couch where Natasha was hugging her legs to her chest. Laura’s laugh sounded like home. 

“Do you want Auntie Nat to play?” Clint asked, stretching his arms behind his head. 

Abruptly changing directions, Fitz dove onto the couch. His head landed in her lap, his hands grasping the stretchy fabric of her borrowed pants. 

“All done buddy?” Laura asked, signing as she spoke. 

Fitz copied her signing, burrowing into Natasha. His warm hands yanked at her, seeking comfort. Lowering her hands Natasha looked to Laura for guidance. “I don’t want to do anything…wrong.” She frowned as Fitz hummed loudly. 

Laura leaned against the couch. “You won’t.” She rolled a spikey sensory ball up and down her son’s arm, eliciting a giggle. “He wants you.” 

Natasha smirked. “I can’t imagine why.” The boy in her lap signed more repeatedly, watching her with rapture. 

This child, reminded Natasha of herself in the Red Room. Lost and fearful of the world. Before emotions had been excised with the subtlety of programming and torture. Fitz had found love, acceptance and a family. His needs were met, without condition. Fitz’s life had joy and hope. He was smart, maybe Laura would let him start doing puzzles with her. 

Rolling the ball over his tummy, Natasha let herself smile. Fitz howled in delight. Laura rested her chin on her friend’s knee, no doubt in her mind where she belonged. Clint downed the rest of Nat’s wine, flipping on the TV. The banter faded as Natasha continued to cradle her nephew. For the first time in recent memory, Nat was able appreciate the children in her life. Was this what Bucky meant by healing? She might be human after all, capable of actual emotions.


End file.
